


Peacocks and Premonitions

by clgfanfic



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 06:23:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dreams can sometimes be trying to tell us something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peacocks and Premonitions

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Of Dreams and Schemes #7 and then in Just You, Me and the Governor #16 under the pen name Lynn Gill.

Hannibal Heyes knew he was going to die.  He looked from the peacock in his arms to the barrel of the Colt .45 centered on his chest.  A flash exploded from the muzzle.  He felt himself being hurled back against the side of the wooden building and he hung there, numb, looking down at the spreading circle of red on his chest.

Something caught his attention, and, looking up, he watched the Kid running toward him.  The young blond man appeared to be moving in slow motion, and Heyes wondered if he'd still be alive when Curry finally reached him.

"Heyes!" the Kid yelled as the dark-haired man's knees buckled and he began to slide down the rough wall.  He was about to hit the ground when he felt Curry's arms wrap around him.

"Ah, Heyes, what've ya done?"

"Sorry, Kid," Heyes managed to choke out, looking up into the tear-filled blue of his cousin's eyes.

"No!" Curry cried, shaking him as Heyes felt his eyes slide closed.  "Heyes, damn it!  You can't leave me alone!"

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Hannibal Heyes was wide awake.

Sitting up, he wiped the sweat off his face with a trembling hand and glanced over at his cousin.  A wave of relief rolled over him; Curry was still sleeping peacefully.  Climbing restlessly to his feet, he left his partner and moved off away from the camp to think.  It was the fifth night in a row that he'd been jarred awake by the same dream cutting through his sleep and driving him awake in a fist of fear and panic.  He was losing sleep and getting short-tempered.

He knew the Kid didn't understand why he was so moody, and he couldn't find a way to explain the dreams to him.

He wished fervently that he could just get a hint of why the dream was recurring and, more importantly, why it scared him as much as it did.  He and the Kid had faced more dangerous situations than he cared to recall when either or both of them could have been killed, yet this particular dream scared him more than anything he'd ever faced.

_It's not that it's just so damn real_ , he thought.  _It's the feel of it that scares me._

_It feels… right._

_Like it's destined to happen and there's nothing I can do to stop it._

_I don't want the Kid to see me die like that_ , he told whatever God there might be who hear him.  _Whatever has to happen, please, don't make the Kid a part of it_.

The ex-outlaw heard his cousin stir and hoped he wouldn't notice that another night's sleep had been cut short.

"Heyes?" came the voice, low and questioning.  He'd noticed.

"Over here, Kid," Heyes whispered.

_Damn.  Sooner or later I've got to tell him about this.  He's going to think I've gone loco, and I don't blame him one little bit_.

Curry joined the infamous leader of the Devil's Hole gang, a blanket hanging loosely over his shoulders.  "What's wrong?  You see somethin'?"

Heyes turned to answer and the Kid noticed the growing dark shadows under the man's eyes, accentuated in the pale moonlight that cast its eerie glow across the Nevada desert.

"Naw, I just wasn't tired," Heyes lied.  "Why don't you go on back to sleep?  I just want to sit here a while, then I'll get some more sleep."

"Heyes…"

The dark-haired outlaw cringed at the tone.

"What's wrong?  You haven't slept more than a couple of hours the last few nights.  We lost that posse in Utah five days ago, so I know it ain't that."

"Didn't realize I've been keeping you up," Heyes responded grumpily, avoiding the issue.

"You ain't sick or somethin', are you?"

"No, not like you're thinking, anyway."  Walking back over to his saddle, Heyes plopped down onto the dusty ground.  Curry joined him, stretching out on his bedroll and waiting.  Heyes began, hesitantly at first, but finally explaining the content of the dream in general terms, unwilling to face it again in detail.

"Heyes, what we need is a quiet little town to hole up in for a few days.  Someplace where we can both rest," Curry told him when Heyes finally fell silent.  "Someplace with a sheriff that don't know us, a hotel that's got soft beds, and a saloon with plenty of poker and a pretty woman or two."

Heyes smiled thinly and nodded.  _I wish I thought it was that simple, Kid_ , he thought, but he said, "I'll go for that.  You have one in mind?"

Curry thought about it for a moment, then smiled back.  "Yeah, I do.  Kismet."

Heyes nodded, recognizing the name of the small mining town.  "You're right, that's about a day's ride north of here, if we're where I think we are."

"It's settled then," Curry said with a satisfied expression.  He shifted to get more comfortable on his bedroll.  "We'll take a break.  That's all you need, Heyes, a little rest. Hell, if we keep gettin' hounded all over the place much longer, I'll probably start havin' loco dreams, too.  You just need some time someplace quiet, that's all.  Your mind's always workin'.  It's time to give it a rest."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Heyes nodded as he lay back down again.  "Sounds good, Kid."

Within minutes the soft sound of Curry's breathing washed over the ex-outlaw leader, lulling him back to sleep.  The dream did not return.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

A cold chill snaking through his chest left Heyes shivering despite the desert heat.  He watched the little girl, unable to look away, as she hurriedly carried a full-grown peacock toward town under one arm, stroking its head with her free hand and talking softly.  He glanced over at the Kid, but the blond man was smiling at the girl.

_Lord, I can accept that it's my time to die, but I'll ask you again, please make sure that the Kid don't see it.  Please.  He's seen enough death in his life, he doesn't need to see mine, too.  And watch out for him when I'm gone.  He's going to need it_.

The sense of dread grew stronger as the partners rode down the main street of the quiet mining town.  Heyes recognized it as the same town in his dreams, but he remained silent.

_If I'm going to die, there's no use worrying the Kid over it now.  There's nothing he can do.  Nothing either of us can do_.

Heyes allowed Curry to lead the way to the single saloon that dominated one corner of the tiny street.  The stillness of the town set Heyes' nerves on edge, and he wondered why the Kid hadn't noticed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Curry watched his cousin from the corner of his eye, worried.  It wasn't like Heyes to let a dream bother him so much.  There had to be more to it than Heyes was telling.

_Well, he decided, we'll get us a bath and a soft bed and a few nights of some real rest and he'll be fine_.

But Curry couldn't force himself to believe it.

_Damn, but it sure is still around here… just like a graveyard_.

_Hell, Curry, you're gonna to be seeing things yourself if you keep this up.  I guess Heyes has got me spooked.  Whatever it is, I don't like it_.

They dismounted and stepped up onto the boardwalk.  Curry paused, looking carefully around.  "It seem a little quiet to you?"

"I was beginning to wonder if it was just me."

"What do you suppose is goin' on?"

"Don't know, but I sure don't like the looks of it."

"I'm gettin' a funny feelin' about this, Heyes."

The dark-haired man was about to comment when they were joined by a man who stepped out of the saloon.  "Welcome to Kismet, boys," he greeted.  "Why don't you join the rest of us inside?"

The ex-outlaws exchanged glances, then followed the man into the saloon.  Curry's hand rested lightly on top of his holstered gun.

Heyes quickly glanced around the interior.  There had to be at least thirty people in the room, some playing poker, some drinking, and some engaged in animated discussions.  The saloon girls sat in various customers’ laps, but they didn't seem to mind.

Curry had to grin.  _Now, one of them might improve Heyes' disposition!_

"What's the problem here?" came a voice, and the cousins turned to see the bartender motioning to them to join him at the bar.

"No problem," Heyes replied cautiously.

"But you aren't smiling!"

"Smiling?" Curry asked.

"Rass Thorton and his men out at the Lucky Peacock mine hit a vein of silver yesterday that's goin' to make the Comstock look downright puny!  Darn near the whole town's out at the mine, celebratin'.  We're just waiting for them to get back to town, then you're gonna see a celebration the likes of which will never be repeated!"

Heyes nodded.  That explained why the place was so quiet.  Maybe he was just looking for things that weren't there.  He forced himself to relax as the high spirits of the customers began to wear off on him.

"Guess there'll be some good poker games when they get here," he said.

"Good!?  Boy, people are gonna be playin' with lumps of gold tonight!"

"Gold?" the Kid questioned.  "I thought you said it was a silver strike."

The man and the bartender fell into laughter.  "And it was, boy, it surely was, but you know what I mean!"  He turned to the customers.  "Next round's on me!"

A cheer went up from the crowd.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The pair headed over and took a room at the hotel, knowing that they had better get a room before the news of the strike had the town of Kismet crawling with prospectors and miners.  They spent a portion of their savings on a bath and shave at the barber's, then another on a huge steak at the hotel dining room.

Heyes' spirits were lifting, and Curry knew that he was thinking about the upcoming poker games that he'd be playing, and about all that money those miners were going to lose to him.

The Kid smiled.  _Yep, this was just what Heyes needed; something to get his mind off of bounty hunters, and posses, and waiting for that amnesty_.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The saloon was in a state of total confusion.  People crowded around the bar and tables and spilled out the doors.  Occasional sounds of gunfire interrupted the goings-on as drunken miners celebrated in the streets.  Heyes and Curry basked in the safety of the back corner of the saloon, knowing the sheriff was going to be too busy with the miners to worry about a couple of strangers in town, especially a couple of strangers who were staying out of the way.

Heyes had already built up a sizeable pile of winnings, and the Kid wasn't doing too badly either.  The miners, half-drunk and willing to bet on practically anything, were easy targets for Heyes' talent, but he let a few good hands pass by to keep them interested and playing.

Curry thought about that for a minute.  Heyes was actually playing a little too seriously, like something more than the money was a stake.

_Damn it, Heyes, relax.  What could go wrong?_

Heyes met his cousin's stare across the table.  He grinned.

_I know you're still worried about me, Kid, but if I'm going to go to my last reward, I'm going to leave a small fortune for you; enough for you to get down to Santa Marta to live the good life until that amnesty comes through.  I owe you that much_.

It was nearly dawn before the partners decided to call it a night.  The rest of the town was still in high spirits and appeared ready to carry the celebration forward for another day – if the whiskey held out.  Heyes and Curry stood and stretched.

A woman screamed.

"Ohmygod!" one of the saloon girls cried.  "There's a fire!"

Silence fell over the crowd in the saloon, then someone began barking out orders for buckets and shovels.  The building emptied as men and women ran to stop the blaze before it destroyed the entire town.

Heyes and Curry followed the rest of the locals out into the street, ready to help.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Curry felt Heyes move away, but was unable to take his attention from where he was tossing buckets of water on the saloon, now almost totally engulfed in flames.  He coughed and tried to wipe his eyes on his sleeve as a blast of smoke and heat erupted from the building.

_Where the hell's Heyes going?_

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Heyes bumped into a woman at the back of the saloon where he was about to ask the storekeeper about there being some dynamite in town.  Her panic-stricken eyes caught his.

"My little girl!" the woman cried.  "Please, please, where's my little girl?"

"You lost your daughter?"

"Please, you have to help me!  No one will help me find my daughter!"

"All right, I'll help you look for her," Hayes said, trying to ease the woman's panic. "Take me to where you last saw her, understand?"

The woman nodded and began running down the alley that separated the saloon from the mercantile.  She stopped.  "Here!" she cried.  "She was right here!"  She raced several yards down the alley, calling for the child.

Heyes glanced around, but didn't see a child.  Then, through the warped planks of the storeroom, Heyes saw the little girl trying to coax a peacock to her as the thick smoke of the fire swirled around them.

He brushed past the woman and into the walkway.  The girl looked up as he approached.  "Please, mister, please get Bartholomew!"  She pointed to the peacock.

Heyes moved forward, ready to grab whatever presented itself and scoop the bird up.  But Bartholomew had his own ideas.  Instead, he ended up with a handful of feathers and the bird hiding under the corner of the wooden building that was rapidly burning.

Smoke blurred Heyes' vision, but he ignored the tears as he tried to reach under the building and grab the pet.  Sounds of the girl's crying and her mother's voice echoed over the commotion from the front of the building.

The little girl screamed as a portion of the building collapsed and the peacock flew out from its cover and straight into Heyes' arms.

"Heyes!" he heard a voice call and looked around for the Kid.

The peacock struggled in his arms, pecking at the ex-outlaw's hands as Heyes spotted one of the bounty hunters that he and the Kid had slipped back in Utah.  His attention was drawn to the circle of the barrel, trained on his chest.

He watched the flash from the muzzle of the man's revolver and felt the peacock break free.  The dream was playing out for real this time.  He felt the slug enter his chest, throwing him back against the side of the saddlery shop.

A second shot rang out and Heyes watched the bounty hunter crumple to the ground.  He glanced down at the growing circle of red on his shirt and smiled.

_It's fate.  Kismet_.

He blinked and looked up at the sound of someone calling his name again.

The Kid.

_Oh no, please, he wasn't supposed to see me die_.

Heyes' knees buckled and he began to slide down the wall of the wooden building, feeling the slivers as they reached out, pricking his shirt and skin as they tried to hold him up.  Then arms wrapped around him, stopping the slow-motion fall to the dusty ground.  He gasped.

"Heyes!" Curry yelled at his cousin.

Heyes turned glassy eyes to look at the blond-haired man.  "I'm sorry, Kid…"

The last thing he heard was the sound of Curry's voice, swearing at him as his eyes slid closed and blackness engulfed him.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

_Am I dead?_ Heyes wondered.  _No, I hurt too damned much to be dead… unless I'm in hell.  Guess that's where I'd be though, right, Lord?  I did break a few of your laws, didn't I?_

_I'm sorry, Jed.  I'm sorry_.

Slowly, other sensations besides the pain began to break through to Heyes' consciousness.  He lay quietly for a moment, trying to get his bearings.  He could hear the sound of his own labored breathing, feel the tightness of the bandages that clung to his chest, and smelled the faint traces of charred wood that hung in the air.  He forced his eyes open.

Curry sat in a chair next to the bed.  His eyes were red and dark circles testified to the sleep he'd lost.  That was confirmed by the way the blond's body sagged wearily in the straight-backed chair.  In the Kid's hands was a worn copy of the Bible, and he was staring absently at the cover, his thumb rubbing methodically back and forth over the title.

Heyes watched him for a moment before he whispered, "Kid?"

Curry's head jerked up.  "Heyes?"  He slid onto the bed, staring at the wounded man in disbelief.

"Thought I was dead… thought that dream had come true."

"We all did," Curry whispered, blinking back tears.  "Seems like you had a miracle happen to you, Heyes."

The perplexed look that crossed the dark-haired man's face prompted Curry to continue.  "That peacock flew up just as that man fired.  The bird was hit first by the bullet and deflected it just enough so it didn't hit you square in the heart.  It sort of bounced off your ribs.  The doc said it was a miracle; nothin' else could explain it."

Heyes closed his eyes and recalled the flash of green and color that had passed in front of him just after the flash from the gun.  _Thank you, Lord.  I don't know why you spared me, but I do thank you_.

He opened his eyes and looked down at the Bible the Kid still held.

Curry looked down at it as well, his cheeks reddening slightly.  "You know, Heyes.  I don't know what to think anymore.  You should've been dead, and after the dreams and all, maybe it is a miracle."

"Maybe so, Kid."  Hannibal Heyes let his eyes close as his cousin's hand reached out and gently gripped his shoulder.  It didn't really matter anymore.  He was alive and the Kid was okay.  That was all that really mattered.


End file.
